The Aperture of World Mystery
by Picopenguin
Summary: When Alfred's disappearance causes a certain A.I.'s curiousity to peak, it decides to examine the rest of the world... for science. Meanwhile, Prof. Layton gets caught up in the mess after going abroad to America to help find a missing friend, who is late for their scheduled meeting of magic and fencing. The story is a triple crossover of Portal/PL/APH. Enjoy :3
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

I made this quite a while ago, but because I lost motivation, I forgot about it. It wasn't until my friend **Nagiza **(who actually got around to read this) told me to continue, and I thank her for the help. :)

On another note: some of the characters seem a bit OOC, and I apologize for that, or maybe because I second guess? *shrug*

The Aperture in World Mystery

Ch. 1

It was a sunny summer day in Lower Michigan. The breeze rolled through a wheat field just outside of a small town not far from it. An old peculiar shed stood longingly in the middle of the golden sea, rusting and undisturbed, but not for long. A young man, who looks to be in his early twenties, sporting a World War II bomber jacket slung over his shoulders, and holding a brown paper bag in his right hand, strolled to the said structure.

"Wow! This things so old! The guys told me it's cursed or somethin', but seriously, how could a shed this small house a ghost? I thought they lived in big creepy mansions and stuff. Eh, so much for scary, I mean, really, what's so scary about a rickety shed in the middle of nowhere?" he decided to open the door casually, but found it bolt shut and locked, so, putting his paper bag down, tried opening it with more force, and yet again, the flimsy-looking door stayed put, unmoving.

"Hey! What gives?" this time he used both hands to try to pry the door open, but to no avail. Finally, he threw his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh and slumped down, reclaiming the bag he had set down moments earlier and took out his lunch consisting of many burgers and a large milkshake, then he moved to a more shaded area of the shed that casted a better shadow in the three o' clock sun and started scarfing down on his meal, using one hand to eat while the other wiped the beads of sweat that had started to run down his forehead.

"Man, this place is so beautiful, so peaceful; I could just lie about here forever," he said in between bites. True, the scenery was majestic, and it was even mentioned in a song, but as the young man munched and stared off, the entrance of the shed slowly opened, revealing not only a sturdy, five inch steel door, but two crawling, snake-like mechanical claws that appeared to have communicated with each other via beeps and clicks came from inside. One of them spoke, and the other nodded in return, the speaker took the way that went around the shed, while the other went around the door and closed in on its target.

The young adult, who was now clearing his eighth burger, was about to go look back inside his paper bag when, at the corner of his eye, a robotic arm slowly approached him, its claws open and its extension drawn back like a snake about to attack. He waited for the object to make its move, and though it was five feet from where he was, it felt like minutes before the arm charged at him with great speed, but he was even faster and jumped before the robot can reach him. The man scoffed and whistled to the mechanical arm around his way, a teasing grin on his face. The robotic snake shook its head and went to chase the human around the plain, screaming in beeps and missing the person whenever he evaded it.

Meanwhile, as the angry claw and the laughing man ran about in the field, the other claw rose up to see what was happening, but then lowered its head in embarrassment when its comrade had gotten itself turned into a pretzel, still chasing the man and trying its best to undo the mess it created, but failing even more in both as it soon became a game of snake. Seeing that its friend was of no use but to distract, the "smarter" claw kept to the ground and slithered its way into the fray, bracing itself when the person came too close to step on it or when the many metallic knots ran into it. Eventually, the opportunity arose when the man was close enough and struck him from behind, its maw encompassing the width of its prey.

"Hey!" he struggled as his arms were bound to the side of his body, rendering his attempted flailing useless. The other claw slowly made its way to its friend, head low and, thankfully, its whole mechanic untied, though it received a nice, stern binary lecture from its partner. The man, who was now hanging sideways after its captor righted itself, was still trying to free himself, but the robot's grip was tighter than a boa constrictor.

"'Kay… are you guys done playing or something 'cuz I gotta get back home before the next meeting. So will you put me down so we can arrange a play date sometime again soon, alright?"

The one claw looked to him with the utmost childish" face" and nodded to him with the greatest enthusiasm. Its friend, however, "rolled" its eyes and started for the shed; leaving its partner and making it hang its head down in sadness, and then it too followed behind. The man knew he was going with the sentient bots, and he knew that not only is he being taken hostage, but the claws did not let him finish his food, and, with a whine, he tried to grab for his lunch bag but was too far and out of reach, even for the short distance in between. The more hostile claw, annoyed by the person's squirming, smacked him onto the shed's thick wall and knocked the wind out of him, then it picked him up again unceremoniously and descended into the depths of where it came, closing the door softly on the way.

* * *

A week later, across the Atlantic, somewhere in Britain, a mansion created of the greatest of elegance stood proudly in its estate. The hedges trimmed to make various shapes and the flower garden patterned in every which way to make a colorful insignia resembling a phoenix on a blue shield background, the water of the fountain that rested on top of said flower shield made ripples of the moon's reflection. The outside was a wonderful spectacle, large and grand, but the main show was happening inside.

"Thank you all for appearing today," a young man said as he paced around the room, hand to his chin in a contemplative manner. His name was Hershel Layton, professor of archaeology at Gressenheller University, a man known for his kind and resourceful attitude, his knack for solving the most puzzling mysteries, which got his name in the papers many times and lover for a great cup of tea. He is a tall man, wearing an orange turtleneck under a brown trench coat, matching dress pants, and olive green dress shoes, but what is the most notable on him is his top hat, red lace circling its circumference above the rim, and a gift given to Hershel's closest friend. Accompanying him is his young friend and apprentice, Luke Triton. Luke is Layton's helper, keeping him organized by reminding him of important matters, getting his mail, making his tea and such. Strong-willed but a little brash and sometimes cheeky, he is nevertheless a great assistant and student. His ability to talk to animals has proven helpful on more than one occasion. Blue is his favorite color, as the outfit he wears is composed of a blue long sleeve sweater, brown shorts with the suspenders hanging to his side, and, like his teacher, a blue hat to go on top of his head. The two are at the study room of the mansion's owner, Henry Warren, where Hershel is deducing the real identity of the suspect involved with a crime that happened the night before. As he paces around the room, various other persons seat themselves on the many chairs, recliners, and sofas the room had to offer. Mr. Warren sat at his study, chair turned to face the thoughtful man, a middle-aged couple sat together, a stern look on both faces, and Mr. Wilson sat on the sofa next to them. There was inspector Chelmey standing strait with his hands in his pockets, along with Constable Barton, and on the seat opposite to Mr. Wilson was the victim of the crime, Arthur Kirkland.

"To sum up the events of what has happened," began Layton, "an item of value was taken from Mr. Kirkland, a book of magical properties, so to speak, then that very same book was used by the suspect to hack into ATMs, steal from public places and disappear without a trace, and later on to framing Mr. Kirkland for the crimes, am I correct Mr. Kirkland?"

Mr. Kirkland stood up, he looked to be in his mid-twenties, his blonde hair a bit mussed up, and he had green eyes. His eyebrows, as Layton noted, were quite, er, bushy on the person. He wore a forest green uniform, and his clean and strait posture told the professor he was a well-mannered, sober, respectful, disciplined individual.

"Yes," responded Kirkland, "I had a personal possession stolen from me, and it was later used to place the criminal charges against me," he took out a dark book with cryptic lettering on the cover, "this book."

The room fell silent, Layton, from the corner of his eye, found Mr. Wilson sweating a little.

"Now, after a little bit of analysis, the criminal did not leave any fingerprints on the tome, however, I had noticed that it was folded on some pages," the professor, after asking permission to show the book flipped to the ones with the corners bent over.

"Ones that I'll have to press flat later," mumbled Kirkland.

"All of us here are avid readers, and we all have different ways of marking pages, whether using bookmarks or remembering page numbers or even the folding of a page's corner, and that bit of logic brought me to the conclusion-" he paused," that the criminal is you!"

He pointed to Mr. Wilson, who stood up suddenly, mouth agape. His shocked expression then gave way to a sly smile, "you have a very interesting book Mr. Kirkland, it was a shame I had to give it back to you, I would have loved to keep that and do more with it, but no, with the constant nagging thought that I would be caught at some point kept at me and so, to make it as if I was being nice without being seen, planted the object in your bookshelf when you were not around and skedaddled out almost scott-free… Almost."

"That's when I came into the room," continued Mr. Kirkland, "and you, knowing I would call the police, knocked me out with a dictionary and dropped my book on me to make the cops think that I committed the crimes you've done, and now you will go to jail for it!"

Chelmey clicked the handcuffs on Mr. Wilson, "you, sir, are charged with theft and the attempted fraud against an innocent."

Wilson growled, and then turned his face made another sneaky smile, "by the way, while I still had possession of the magical book, I memorized one of the spells, one that has proven a helpful diversion when I escape," he took a deep breath and muttered a few unintelligible words, the lights started flickering and everyone was at a loss of what was going on.

"Stop him-!" yelled Luke as his mentor ran to the low speaking man, but just as he was halfway reaching him, the lights went out. In the struggle, Chelmey gave an _oof_ and the thud of his fall sounded in the dark, Mr. Wilson laughed evilly, and the sound of broken glass was heard before the lights turned back on.

"He escaped!" cried the young boy as he ran to the jagged hole on the window.

"Quickly, everyone! We must catch Mr. Wilson before he goes any farther!" said Layton, "he should still be in the vicinity if those spells he remembered are only limited to that!"

As he was exiting the room, Arthur called out to him, "wait! Mr. Layton! May I go with you? I could be of some use now that my book is now back in my possession."

The other man gave a stern nod, and they, with Luke in tow, ran out of the room.

"Hey, Mr. Kirkland?" asked the ever-curious Luke as they were dashing down the hallway.

"Yes?"

"Are we going to see you do some of your magic when we see Mr. Wilson?

The older blonde spaced out for a moment, and then, "yes, yes we will."

* * *

"Great, of all the places I could have escaped to, it had to be in a labyrinth," mumbled a very lost Mr. Wilson.

He limped around the maze, holding his bloodied arm, which was damaged when he jumped out the window, and cursed whenever he got into a dead end.

"Blast it!" he would say.

Not too far off, the three men reached the entrance of the maze.

"His blood trail leads inside here," said Layton as he examined the small, drying red splatters against the green grass with a flashlight.

"We must go quickly or we'll lose him," hurried Luke.

On Mr. Wilson's side, he was becoming more frustrated by the second, and was about to scream aloud, but when he heard the sound of footsteps, he promptly shut his mouth and quickened his pace.

"Mr. Layton, wouldn't it be better if we jumped through these hedges instead of running the entirety of this jungle!" Arthur huffed in between breaths, "I'm very out of shape for a marathon."

"We could, but-" as he extended his hand into the shrub, he instantly felt a thorn prick him, and retracted it just as fast to show the dribble of blood that started to form on the back of his hand, "it seems Mr. Warren does not like cheaters."

Just then, Luke came up with an idea, "Mr. Kirkland! How about we use your powers to track down Mr. Wilson! I want to see you in action!"

"Hey! I could've thought of that!" yelled a gasping Arthur, and as soon as he stopped wheezing, he said in a mighty wide grin "stand aside and I'll show you what real magic looks like!" he took his dark book out, flipped to a specified page, knelt down, and placed his right hand on the ground while muttering an incantation from the text. Suddenly, purple beams of light came off of the roots of the tall shrubs, and some of them began extending it to a location the mystical man was directing them to. Right after that, a yelp was sounded.

"That's him!" cried Luke.

"Come now! He's not far!" motioned the professor.

The three ran through the now more spaced out shrubbery and found their plant-victimized culprit at a simple turn, who was struggling to free himself despite the verdant barbs that held him captive, and more of the crimson stream that dripped on him now fell onto much of his clothes.

"Hah! We caught you red-handed with our green thumb here, Mr. Wilson!" Luke said happily.

"Good job with the pun, Luke, but now, we need to find a way to contact the inspector to apprehend our run away," the professor looked for a way to bring attention to him in the middle of a spiny forest, "hmm, Arthur, with your power, can you create another light beam to signal inspector Chelmey?"

"Oh, sure, why not?" he began his ritual again, this time the beam was of a sunshine yellow, and, sure enough, the voice of the gruffly authority figure was overheard.

"Layton! Is that you? What was that?" he yelled out.

"Inspector! We found Mr. Wilson!" was the reply.

"Alright! Give me some time, I'll be there!"

While Layton waited with Luke, Arthur, and the captured Wilson, the trapped man took out a pocket knife and began cutting at his leafy bonds. In a matter of time, he broke free and took out a pipe (which had been concealed in the sleeve of his good arm) and lunged at the small group. Layton parried with his flashlight and, using both hands on his just turned weapon, shook the metal instrument off.

"Oh, you think I was going to be taken away like that that easy? Well, think again!"

Wilson thrust forward, and Layton dodged. Arthur pulled Luke from the fray and held on to him as the young boy struggled to try to help his friend.

"No, it's too dangerous! You will get hurt, and it would be best for someone of your age to not get involved in a physical matter such as this; wouldn't that be what Mr. Layton would like you to do?"

The two men kept at their game of swordplay. Then, tiring fast and losing more blood by the second, Mr. Wilson's every move became more desperate, more energy depleting, until, at last, an opportunity for the latter fighter arose, and he took the former's weapon from him by deflecting an incoming blow and pulling the pipe from his weakened, bloody palms.

"Argh! Y-you will pay for this, Layton!" the man cursed before he fell to the ground exhausted.

Layton walked over to the unconscious body; Luke breaks free from Kirkland and runs to his mentor.

"Professor, what are we going to do? He's still bleeding and we can't just leave him like this, even if the man himself gave us a lot of trouble."

"Don't worry, Luke, he is still alive," reassured the elder, "but the loss of blood took a toll on him, and he's out for a while. We should patch him up or he would bleed further," he turns to Arthur, "Mr. Kirkland, would you be as kind as to help heal Mr. Wilson?"

"Why should I?" retorted the man, "he stole my magic book and framed me! I think the idiot deserves it!"

"Mr. Kirkland! At least show some respect!" the professor reasoned.

"Hmph, no!" he turned his back, crossing his arms.

Luke then came up to him with a concerned look and a, low, saddened tone of voice, "Mr. Kirkland, I know he gave you a hard time when he stole your tome, but please, as a gentleman, show some mercy to the poor man."

Arthur looked at him coldly at first, then softened at the boy's worried expression, reminding him of another younger child he used to deal with.

"Fine, but because I, as a gentleman, have to show at least some respect to some annoying, weak git that other people told me to care about." He walked over to the dirtied body, flipped to a page, hovered his right hand over the bloodied form, recited a chant, and simultaneously, the broken figure began to mend itself. Chelmey came just after the glow subsided, gasping heavily.

"Ah! I see our criminal has tired himself out! Good job watching over him, Layton!"

Layton gave a curt nod and Chelmey motioned his troupe of officers to pick up the still unconscious Wilson. Layton was about to follow them out, when Arthur's hand touched his shoulder.

"Mr. Layton, I have read about you as a practical man, yet you didn't seem as surprised when I exposed my true self to you with my magic. Why?"

The other man looked at him blankly, but the smirk that slowly formed on his lips quickly gave him an answer.

"I'll just say that, like a puzzle, you should not jump to conclusions before you even had the chance to observe," he gave a wink and started to walk away, with Luke following behind him.

Arthur stood there standing, but before Layton could be out of his sight, he called out to him.

"Mr. Layton! Uh, would you mind it if I come over some time for tea? I would really like to learn about how you were able to execute such extraordinary and quick moves!"

"Why of course! I am not as busy for the next few days, anyway. Would you like to have Mr. Kirkland come over, Luke?"

"Would I ever!" squealed the young boy, "I want to see more of his magic with my very own eyes!"

"Alright then, it seems we are at an agreement. We can meet again tomorrow at my flat and I can fancy you with some tea, and teach you about fencing. You can entertain Luke with your enchantments at the end."

"A good sound deal to me," the two both shook hands at the arrangement, "well, we better get going, see you tomorrow!" Together, they got out of the maze and made their way home.

On the car ride back, Luke was giddy about the events that unraveled today, but was even more on the topic of Arthur Kirkland.

"He really was a nice guy, professor, even if he was a little rude towards Mr. Wilson, but his amazing power! It was so cool! The roots all just got out from the ground and wrapped him in its grasp! It was incredible!"

* * *

Later that night, as Arthur was sleeping, he heard a knock at his door. Grumbling, he turned to his side and ignored the rapping, but it got louder. Annoyed, he took one of his pillows and covered his face, but the loud, and quickly getting louder, tapping turned into a furious bang.

Unable to take it any longer, he slowly went downstairs to confront whoever was making the racket. He peeped through a nearby window closest to the door and found the silhouette of a familiar figure. Instantly knowing the identity, he stormed to the door and angrily pulled on the handle.

"You! What in the devil's name are you doing here, you wanker! Do you know what time it i-"

A yellow gas was sprayed from the silhouette's hand, and in a matter of seconds, the Brit, still sputtering from the sudden release of an unknown substance, began to stiffen from the feet up. He looked to the shadow, and it removed a standing cutout of who he thought was someone he knew, revealing a hooded being, face unrecognizable in the darkened sky, but pale in skin by the way its hand was still held up to his face, holding the spray that caused his paralysis. A feminine voice in her teens, who whispered a sorrowful 'I'm so sorry', was heard before the effects of the gas completely numbed Arthur.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**

So, I thought about this - and since I only stopped the story at a certain point - after the main eight have been whisked away, should there be more taken away or should I stay and do with what I have?

Also, on a random note: my sister told me that I use too many big girl words in my stories, which recently, I have noticed(I've actually had to re-look some of them up because I forgot what they meant :P).

The Aperture in World Mystery

Ch. 2

The next morning, Layton woke to the smell of pancakes wafting to his study. Getting up slowly, he decided to leave his coat on the couch he had slept on, and the papers with some untold information that had lay on his chest from his reading it the night he came back were placed on the wooden coffee table, upturned and in a neat pile. He moved towards the kitchen, the smell becoming even more aromatic by the step.

"Morning professor!" smiled busy little Luke, "I have your tea ready and some pancakes made by Rosa as well!"

Seating himself at a chair, Layton took his tea from its saucer and sipped it. Then he took a fork and cut the hotcakes into rounded triangles. Luke sat at the opposite end with his own stack and gobbled hastily on his.

"Luke, a gentleman never eats noisily at the table," Layton told the speed eater.

"Mph! *Gulp* But professor! Mr. Kirkland is coming over today and I want to clean up a bit before he gets here!" Luke reasoned.

Hershel gave it some thought drinking his tea before he answered, "alright then, but please be careful, I don't want you to end up choking on your food."

True to his word, Luke ate a moderate pace, and when he was finished eating and washing his plate, he rushed to his room, leaving Layton to finish his breakfast. Hershel finished his sometime later, and went back to his study to finish reading up on the papers he had overturned earlier, looking back at the clock every now and then for the time.

A few hours passed, Luke had just finished cleaning his room, but the guest hadn't arrived at the designated time, which was only ten minutes ago.

"Professor, when do you think Mr. Kirkland going to come?"

Looking at the clock, he reassured his young apprentice, "Luke, it has only been ten minutes! I think the man is stuck in traffic."

An hour passed after the first ten minutes and Arthur still hasn't appeared. Luke's excitement had died down by then and Layton feared more than a traffic jam that had hindered his new friend from coming.

"That's odd, if Arthur did not wish to come, he could have called. I wonder what happened." Layton decided to give Kirkland a call, but no one answered. Luke, who was watching Hershel try to contact Arthur, became worried when his friend set down the phone without a reply on the other line.

"I think we need to go and visit Arthur for ourselves," Layton said.

Turns out, there was not a great amount of traffic as the two had expected, which was odd, but it did make their trip much faster. Once there, the two were welcomed by the sight of a small group of police cars by Arthur's home.

"Oh no," muttered Layton.

He parked his car and he and Luke got out, but just when they were about to walk to the house, inspector Chelmey came over to them.

"Ah, Layton, good to see you here," he said.

"Nice to see you again inspector," Layton replied, then looked to the house that was being investigated, "tell me, inspector, what happened here?"

Chelmey looked towards the same direction, "it seems that our friend, Arthur Kirkland, had been kidnapped in the dead of night, we suspected a few friends of Mr. Wilson that could've tried to avenge him, but there was no evidence that gave any leads to them," he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "actually, there was not a lot left behind on the crime scene."

Layton looked to him, "how was he reported lost?"

"Apparently, the kidnappers caused some ruckus when they confronted the victim; some of the neighbors heard some yelling and the few who witnessed the event immediately called, though at first we were kind of skeptical."

Layton raised an eyebrow, "what do you mean by being skeptical at first?"

"Well," began the inspector, "they said that he was being carried away in a flying van, and we thought it was at first some prank, but we received calls for the same reason just seconds later."

"Interesting," the professor said, "and how long have you been here?"

Before the inspector could answer, one of the cops called him over for something of interest.

"Coming!" he yelled over his shoulder, then, turning his attention back to Hershel, "since the calls. Come on, there's something over there that you should see."

He directs Layton and Luke to the front step of Arthur's house, and points to a yellow-brown stain on the ground, "this was one of the only bits the captors left behind. We identified the darker part as oil, but we have yet to see what the yellow one is."

As Layton examines the splotch, Luke notices some stray cats wandering not too far away.

"Professor," he said, keeping his eyes on the felines, "do you think those cats over there could've seen what Mr. Kirkland's abductors looked like?"

The older looked to where his friend was staring at, "well, there seems to be quite a few around here, so yes, see if they could provide some clues as to what our mystery suspect's actions were."

The boy jogged over to the cats and began speaking to them. Layton was still impressed at the kid's ability to communicate to animals, but there was other matters to focus on and went to where Chelmey was talking to some of his subordinates.

"Ah! Layton, good timing! We just found out what the mystery liquid is," he said, "it is some kind of poison that targets the nervous system, but this one's been diluted, so the kidnappers probably used it to paralyze the victim."

"Ah, I see, thank you inspector."

"Professor!" shouted Luke, "I think I found what we've been looking for!"

Hershel hurries over to his apprentice, and Luke immediately shares the information with him.

"This tabby here said that last night, as he was trying to catch a mouse, a van pulled up and nearly ran him over. After that, he wanted to give the driver a what for, but he stopped when they got out."

"What did they look like?" questioned Hershel.

"Let me ask," Luke meowed the request to the cat(whose appearance resembled greatly to Arthur's), and it meowed back its response, "he says that there were two people, one in a hooded sweater, and the other in a polo shirt. He couldn't see the one in the hoodie, though he heard it was a girl, but he knows that the other was probably wearing a bear mask, like one mascots wear."

"Anything else?"

"He says that there were also two one-eyed robots: a tall one with an orange eye, and a short one with a blue eye, and they all had some kind of insignia." Luke turned to the cat and asked what it looked like. It, in turn, created a rough drawing on the dirt: eight triangles in a circle with a gap in the middle, Layton identified the image as resembling the shutters of cameras that were used back then.

"Fascinating, thank you for the showing us this, Luke, can you take a picture of it?

*Click!*"Way ahead of you, professor!"

"Good job, my boy, now let's see if inspector Chelmey has any information regarding this odd symbol."

The two made their way to Chelmey, who was drinking some coffee and casually talking to Constable Barton.

"Yeah, yeah, and the bloke said to me-"

"Sorry to intrude on your conversation, inspector," Hershel broke in nicely, "but it seems Luke and I have found something that can shed some light on the captors."

"Really? Let's see it then!"

Luke took the photo out and handed it over to the man. He seemed lost on what it is, judging by the way his brow was raised, "um, what exactly is this, may I ask?"

"It's a signia that was imprinted on the ground not too far from here," Luke answered.

"Oh, I see. Alright, then! Thank you, child, my team can run an analysis on this and find out where this came from," Chelmey stuck the picture in his pocket and nodded to the professor, "the results should be in tomorrow, I'll give you the information via phone by then."

"Thank you inspector," said Layton.

* * *

That night, in some other part of Europe, the smell of pasta filled the air.

"WAHHHHHHHH!"

"Italy?" A man with a thick German accent said. "Italy!" He ran through the hallways of his home, following the smell of the pasta, leading him to the door at the front of his house. The door was wide open and he sprinted out, only to be knocked back by a kick to his face. He staggered back a bit in shock, but regained his composure and took to a fighting stance. The hooded figure before him was also in a stance, and behind it, two robots, a short, round one with high shoulders and a blue eye, and a tall, pea body shaped one with an orange eye loaded an unconscious Italian into a van, the German growled angrily at this and began to shoot punches at the hooded person.

"Let him go, you bastard!" his jabs and hooks flew wildly, but the being was agile and faster than his fists, even landing some hits of its own on him, and although the punches were weak, the person's seemingly limitless energy in evading each blow was tiring the man out. Then, once the pattern slowed and he fell to his knees in pain and exhaustion gasping, the strange hooded person stood in front of him, and the German swore he saw it smile at him.

"You were a good sparring partner," she said. Wait, it was a girl? "It was fun, your technique was strong but easily maneuverable to someone like me, unless of course in your rage you were just throwing it all out," she chuckled. How dare she insult him like that?

She looked back to her robot cohorts, who sat on the ground the entire time staring at the two fight with great curiosity, then, "hey, A, what time is it?"

A, the blue-eyed one, went to the front of the van and opened the driver's door to check the time, and was greeted by a waving hand, then A, talking in some clicks and gurgles of a language, asked what time it was to the person, who spoke low and quietly to the robot before it went back to the girl and recited to her (in the same clicks and gurgles) the time it was told by the other.

"Really?" she said, "wow, we better get back or we'll miss curfew." She was walking away from the German before she spun around on her heel, holding a finger up, "I almost forgot," then it pointed to the man, "you."

Before he could stand up, her palm was brought down to his face and it sprayed a yellow gas on it, numbing him into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**

Thank you, **ubermuffin42 **for the review that caught my eye whilst looking through my email! *pats back*

And I also remembered how this chapter made me go into giggle fits the first time I typed it...

The Aperture in World Mystery

Ch. 3

Awaking to a ring, Hershel got up. He shuffled slowly over, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before picking up the phone.

"Good morning, this is Layton speaking, how may I help you?"

"Layton! Mornin' to you too," Chelmey replied, "as I have promised, I have the results on that shape your little friend gave me yesterday, and, well," he paused, "it's best to come over to Scotland Yard so I can tell you more about it ."

"Alright, I'll be right over, inspector."

After he hung up, Layton went to wake Luke, who, when Layton told him the news, jumped out of his bed excited and dressed with haste. The two quickly drove to Scotland Yard and met up with Chelmey.

"Ah! Layton! Good to see you. Now, about that logo…"

Chelmey told Layton everything there was to the strange logo, about how it came from an American-based company called Aperture that once tested humans for the sake of science. He found records of them, from a blue, bouncy dietary gel that was taken off the market for its toxicity, to creating a charity that used the wishes of dying children and applying it to healthy adults, to genetically inserting praying mantis DNA in a person. He mentioned Cave Johnson, the CEO of the facility that ran it before he died of moon dust poisoning, who found out how to make a device that was able to teleport a human from point A to B via contained holes in the time-space continuum using the toxic dust. Layton was in awe and disgust as each experiment Chelmey mentioned filled his mind with details of each one's trial and error, Luke on the other hand was more of disgust than of awe.

"That's just inhumane! And people just volunteer for this?"

"Well, boy, apparently, after the volunteers became too scared to volunteer -and to make this not as scary as you think- Mr. Johnson decided to hire some homeless people for a set amount, oh, say, sixty American dollars, so they can try out the rest of his experiments," Chelmey said to the boy.

Luke certainty did not like being talked down like a child, "look here, I am not a kid, I can bear taking in gruesome details without flinching!"

"Luke," the professor piped in, "it is not like a gentleman to speak up like that."

"Fine," the boy mumbled under his breath.

"Eh, don't worry 'bout him Layton, he's probably just going through a phase, it'll pass after some time." This made Luke curse him out quietly under his breath.

"Well, that was an intriguing history, inspector," Layton said as he got up from his seat, "and may I ask one thing, where was this facility located?"

"Well, Aperture has two laboratories, one in Idaho and one in Michigan, though rumors have been heard that the one in the latter is the one that dealt with the most human experimentations, but the address is unknown. There are some locals who witnessed people going to an abandoned shed there, entering, and never coming back. Actually, a missing person was reported at that location a week ago; if you like, I can give the details about him since he seems to be a relative of Mr. Kirkland's."

"That would be of great help to me inspector," Layton gave a curt nod.

"Also, Layton, two more people of different nationalities have been reported missing as of last night," the inspector added.

"What were they of?" questioned the professor.

"Italian and German."

"Do you think it could be connected to this incident?"

"Yes."

"Can I have the files on those victims as well?"

"Sure, I'll be back in a bit," And with that, Chelmey walked away to the records room to fetch the files, leaving the two men to chat about the information they had just received.

"Professor, what do you think about the German and the Italian? What connection do you think they have with Mr. Kirkland?" Luke asked.

"Hmm," the man contemplates, "well, Mr. Kirkland, seeing as he is an esteemed figure of authority, probably had some political friends in those countries."

"But if they were important, wouldn't it test diplomatic relations between them and America?" the boy contradicted.

"Well, it's good to see you knowing your politics, and yes, it would, but I don't know why it's not public though, but there is another theory I have looked into that needs some verifying."

"Which is?"

"Not right now, but in time, it might be true or not, depending on how it will plan out."

As he finished his sentence, Chelmey walked back to the duo with some manila folders, "here's the files on those missing people like you requested Layton," he handed them to Layton, who took them kindly and gave a "thank you" before leaving the building.

* * *

England awoke in a room, slightly dizzy, from what could probably be the after effects of the gas he'd been under. He looked around his prison cell, but was surprised to find out that his holding cell is nothing more than a cheap motel room that smells like flower freshener with an excruciatingly bright light coming from the window.

"This has to be some sick joke of America's," but then remembered who the shadow that gassed him actually belonged to.

"Wait a tic… I knew it! It was that bloody frog! He's probably trying to get me to sign more engagement papers and dragged me to this sorry setup of a honeymoon suite! Wait till I get my hands-"

He was cut short by a voice on the overhead speakers, "hello, and welcome to the Enrichment Center! We hope your stay in the relaxation vault has been a pleasant one! Please note that if your nose starts to scent random smells not associated with the following: paint, metal, water, paper, lemons, cake, dust, linen, air, salt, the ocean, penguins, pillows, granola bars-"

"Oh my bloody Mary, what the hell is going on?" the Brit murmured under his breath.

"-turtles, coconuts, or makeup- this is a fatal sign that our High concentrate Odorless Tooth whitening And Sleep/paralysis Sprayer has somehow damaged your nasal receptors and that you will need to assume the party escort position so that we may tend to your nosebleed, thank you and have a nice day."

"Wha-?" and just like that, on cue, England's nose started to trickle blood, "what the bloody-? Hey! I need medical assistance here!" He yelled at the ceiling, "Hello?" He ran to the bathroom and took a few tissues before tilting his head up and placing them under his nose, and in doing that, he noticed his teeth have gotten considerably whiter.

"Excuse me, sir?" a knock was heard at the door, "I have checked your vitals and it seems you are experiencing the after effects of the sprayer, would you like some help?"

"No, I'll let myself bleed out, yes I need help!" He ran for the door and almost tripped trying to let his helper in, and while he can't see her face as he was staring up the whole time, he couldn't help but put a finger at the familiarity of her voice. Then again, with the nosebleed he's having right now, and the fact that he was knocked out by some tooth whitening (with a very peculiar acronym), the voice could be anyone's.

"Alright, sir, will you take your hand off of your nose please?" The girl's voice, plainly American with a hint of a different nationality, nicely said, "now this'll hurt like a mosquito, but I assure you it's as fast as a flash." She took the tissues off and inserted what felt like an eyedropper, judging by the conical feel when it entered his bloody nostril, and squirted a somewhat viscous liquid down his airway before proceeding to the next one, and it didn't even hurt.

"There," she said once she was finished, "now all you have to do is keep your head tilted like that for a few minutes and let the medicine do its thing, alright?" He nodded. As she left the room, England searched at the corner of his eye to see who his mystery nurse was, and almost gasped when he recognized the hoodie of his captor. Unfortunately, the medicine was stronger than he thought and he passed out before she even turned around to say "I'll see ya soon, Mr. Britain."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**

Short chappie is short :I ... I feel like mentioning turtles for some reason...*looks at previous chapters* Oh, I did :P

Ch. 4

Not too long from what just happened, Layton was reading the files he had been given by Chelmey the day before and sipping his tea casually. Luke seated himself across his friend, chewing on his food. Once he was done and finished cleaning up the table, Luke went over to his friend to see what bits of information he can disclose.

"Professor, may I ask, but, who is Mr. Kirkland's relative and did you find anything about the other two?"

"Hm, well," he started, "I admire your curiosity, but from what I've read so far, Alfred F. Jones is Mr. Kirkland's missing brother from America, and he has quite the reputation, too. The Italian's name is Feliciano Vargas and the German's is Ludwig Belschmidt."

"Can you tell me about them?" Luke asked eagerly.

"Of course," replied Layton, "Mr. Jones, as stated before, is Arthur's brother, but he was born in America. Apparently, Mr. Jones, like his brother, is an authorative figure, but his, and oddly his brother and the other two, are not stated what position they are in government, other than the fact that they are representatives of some sort. It does say, however, what professions these people took up in addition to their governmental status, and it does fit their personalities quite well. Mr. Jones's a logger; Arthur's is studying the paranormal, naturally. Mr. Vargas has a brother and they own a pizzeria that they run together; Mr. Ludwig is a drill sergeant and a personal trainer, and like Mr. Vargas, he has a brother too: Gilbert Belschmidt."

"Wow, that's quite interesting, professor" said Luke. Suddenly, Rosa, Layton's maid, called from another room.

"Hershel! Come quick! There is a report on the telly on those missing people you talked to me about!" Layton came in not a moment too soon with Luke trailing behind; Rosa was standing next to a bookshelf, duster in hand and facing the TV, which was showing Chelmey speaking to the media from a podium.

"I understand it has come to my attention that Arthur Kirkland, a representative figure in government, has been reported missing as of late along with the representatives of America, Germany and Italy, and recently, Canada. Investigations are being held in those countries and protocols are being issued to other governments to secure the rest of the representatives from other countries from further harm."

"Well, you can't always be too cautious," Rosa replied to Chelmey's statement before turning to face Layton, "wouldn't you think so, Hershel?"

"Yes, but it won't always protect them," he answered.

"Well, I guess you're right," she gave a shrug, and her attention returned back to the television.

"Now, though these people target only the reps, it is advised not to approach them, for some civilians have also been reported lost alongside the kidnappings," Chelmey continued, "as for who to look out for, these people are from what has been believed to be an inactive science laboratory with this label," he reveals a photo of the dirt circle that Luke had taken a picture of from the day before, and murmurs rose amongst the crowd, "they will have this logo on their person shown, which may also be imprinted on their vehicle. It is advisable to be indoors by nightfall, as that is when they arrive; please secure locks on all doors and windows, and when it is necessary to be expecting a guest at a late hour, confirm their identity before letting them in. That is all."

A wave of reporters greeted Chelmey as he stepped off the podium and the camera cuts back to the news anchor shortly to comment on the speech. Layton turns off the TV and silently walks back to the kitchen to re-read the files, leaving Luke and Rosa in his silence.

"I think the professor's contemplating something," Rosa said, breaking the silence, "but whatever's he's thinking of I'll never tell with that look on his face. What do you think he's probably planning of, Luke?"

"Well, I for one also have the foggiest idea, but I feel it's going to be something great," the boy responded.

"I think you should go and see him, see if he'll tell you what's on his mind," the maid grinned.

Luke offed of the seat he was on and walked to his mentor, who, oddly, wasn't in the kitchen like he thought he was, and was, in fact, in his study with the door slightly ajar.

"Professor?" Luke sounded after knocking on the wood.

"Oh? Come in Luke, I want to tell you something," he gestured to a chair. The boy seated himself and the professor cleaned up the papers on his desk.

"Luke, I have been thinking," began the professor.

"Yes?"

"Do you want to fancy yourself for a trip to America?"

The boy stared in wide eye excitement, "oh, would I!"

"Good, I have our tickets booked for the flight tomorrow, and I have already contacted your parents in advance for their permission to bring you along."

The boy was hyper with joy and ran off to pack his bag for the next day's trip. As soon as he was out the door, Layton looked back to his neat pile and gazed at them longingly.

"But how?"


End file.
